


Nagisa and Haruka Travel the World

by themorninglark



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mostly Gen, Post-Canon, Travels, University era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're going to see the <i>world</i>," Nagisa breathes.</p><p>Haruka smiles. "Yeah. I guess I am."</p><p>He's silent, for a while. He remembers a boy who dreamt of touching the stars in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nagisa and Haruka Travel the World

**Author's Note:**

> This one's been simmering in the back of my mind ever since I did the rareprompt series earlier this year, and it's for everyone who asked me, _what about NagiHaru?_
> 
> Many months later, on the brink of Christmas, here we are. I hope you like it ♥

"- ahhhh, it's really happening! When do you fly off?"

Haruka, cradling his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he traipses up his building steps with his hands full of grocery bags, manages to catch the tail end of Nagisa's question amidst the constant stream of chatter.

"Next Friday," he says. "Our first race is on Saturday."

"So _soon_!"

The clouds shift in Tokyo's springtime sky. A flash of brilliant green, a sudden burst of sunlight behind swaying leaves, dazzles Haruka; he comes to a slow stop to blink, to take in the moment. _So soon..._

A year has passed, and then some.

Nagisa's voice is breezy, like the wind in the air. It whips down the line from a place far away, a place where the crash of the sea's never far and April showers smell like poplars, and it tickles the shell of his ear with its warm, gentle breath.

Haruka reaches for his keys and unlocks his door with a soft _click_.

“It's not like I've never been overseas,” he says, shuffling off his sneakers. With some dexterity, he juggles his bags, puts Nagisa on speaker and sets his phone down on the shoe rack.

“Yeah, but this time's different! It's your first overseas _competition_! Haru-chan..."

Nagisa's dramatic pause fills the apartment, a sudden hush enveloping the space around Haruka like a conspiratorial whisper.

"What?" asks Haruka, starting to unpack his groceries.

"You're going to see the _world_ ," Nagisa breathes.

Haruka smiles. "Yeah. I guess I am."

He's silent, for a while. He remembers a boy who dreamt of touching the stars in space.

"I wish I could come with you."

Nagisa's voice trails off like a wistful afterthought.

"You could," Haruka suggests, without thinking (and it's Nagisa, always, who does this to him); when he does think, he thinks: _yes, you could._ It's possible. They've done crazier things, where Nagisa's involved.

"It's a weekend. You can fly with me and stay for the race, if you want."

"Ah, Haru-chan…"

The familiar lilt returns. The room feels brighter.

"I want to, but I need to study. I managed to get into university, after all, and I want to work hard, and make my parents proud!"

"They already are," Haruka murmurs. "We all are."

"Eh? Did you say something?"

The moment passes.

"It's nothing," says Haruka, and Nagisa, with his mile-a-minute train of thought, has already moved on to the next thing on his mind.

"Hey, hey, Haru- _chan!_ Will you bring me a souvenir?"

"I'm not bringing you a pizza," says Haruka immediately.

"Ahh- _hh,_ " Nagisa whines. "You're so boring... how did you _know_ that was what I wanted?"

Haruka doesn't bother dignifying this obvious question with a response.

 

* * *

 

In the Piazza di Spagna, Rin, one hand with a firm iron hold on Haruka's collar and the other resting on his hip, raises his eyebrows.

"I thought you'd grown out of that habit," he says, tapping one foot impatiently on the pavement. "Good thing Makoto called to warn me before we flew."

Haruka, with a rueful reluctance, takes one step back from the fountain and turns around to face the Spanish Steps. It's a hot day. He feels the sun on the back of his neck, European and sweltering, not a cloud in the sky. His skin pricks with the beginning of a tan.

Rin already has that look in his eyes, gaze flicking back and forth from the top of the steps, back towards Haruka.

"I don't like climbing stairs," Haruka tells him, in no uncertain tones.

Rin's grin sharpens.

"Race you to the top," he calls over his shoulder, before letting go and taking off at a sprint.

Haruka sighs.

He follows.

They fly, higher and higher, and with the sun-kissed wind in his hair, Haruka looks back. Rin is still ahead. He was always the faster runner, it rankles and annoys Haruka, even as he marvels at how small the fountain looks now in their wake.

The world is at their feet, and when he opens his eyes, it is almost too much to take in.

(Sometimes, he needs a reminder to open his eyes - )

He is out of breath and doubled over as he staggers up the last of the steps. Rin claps him on the shoulder, laughing. The air almost _feels_ thinner, at this height, and Haruka blinks away a drop of sweat, uneven, cracked stone paving blurring back into focus beneath the soles of his shoes. They don't make roads like this in Japan.

"Come on," says Rin. "Let's get pizza. I'm starving."

Haruka straightens slowly.

_Pizza…_

They make their way down the street. From the corner of his eye, Haruka sees a small shop selling magnets, postcards and other touristy souvenirs.

"Wait," he says to Rin. "I need to buy something."

 

* * *

 

_If you can't keep up, I'll leave you behind._

He hears himself, young and unforgiving, in the echoes of his past.

He hears the light pitter-patter of footsteps trailing just behind, always, rushing, _rushing_ , direct and honest and never once holding it against him, not his longer legs or his taller height, nor the imperfect carelessness with which he broke and re-shaped everything important in their lives.

There's a warmth on his back that isn't just from the scorching sun above them.

Exposed, he feels himself slow down, just a fraction.

 

* * *

 

It starts small, with his heart on his sleeve for a sudden, breathtaking moment; it starts like this, picking up a postcard of the Spanish Steps he's just climbed and painstakingly counting Euro coins to pay for it as Rin puts on his sunglasses and leans against the wall outside, waiting.

At night, he sits poised at the desk of their hotel room with the desk lamp on. The pen feels heavy in his hand.

He thinks, he will write about pizza. Rin had a hefty slice of pepperoni, and Haruka, in the absence of any fish pizza, had settled for something with calamari on it.

 _Fish pizza sounds disgusting,_ Rin had declared; _does not,_ Haruka had argued.

He knows that Nagisa would agree with him. Nagisa eats all the things he does (and more). He would have loved all the smells and tastes in Rome.

But there is only so much space on the back of this little card, and it seems silly to waste it on pizza, of all things, and besides, _pizza_ isn't what Haruka wants to talk about.

He isn't sure what he wants to talk about, truthfully. All he knows is -

It fills his chest like a tender heartache, and it's bigger than pizza.

 

* * *

 

When Saturday dawns, Haruka wakes to a glowing notification light from his phone.

He sits up in bed slowly. It takes him a while to remember where he is. The air feels different, the sounds from outside are foreign, the pillow softer. The dust dances in the air by the gauzy white curtains, where the sun's first light is shining through. He hears the sound of the bathroom tap running and realises that Rin is already up and about, like the relentless morning person he is.

Haruka picks up his phone and flips it open, rubbing his eyes. He has three new messages from his friends.

_From: makoto_  
_Subject: Ganbatte Haru!  
_ _It's race day!! I'll be cheering you and Rin on from Tokyo! ^^_

_From: rei_  
_Subject: Good luck!  
_ _Haruka-senpai, I just wanted to wish you all the best in your competition today. It is very exciting and so beautiful to see your dreams coming true!_

_From: nagisa_  
_Subject: HARU-CHAN look what i found today!!!!!  
_ **_Attachment: fish head.jpg_ **

With some small measure of trepidation, Haruka clicks on the attachment.

He's greeted by a photo of Nagisa, flashing a peace sign, at a fish market that Haruka recognises instantly with a pang. It's a fifteen-minute cycle from his house in Iwatobi, a shining beacon of familiarity and routine. Every Sunday morning, he used to get on his bike, head down to the market by the seaside, and buy the same fresh fish that he buys every week from Tanagawa-san who lives next to the pier.

There she is, her grey hair pulled back in a neat bun, beaming next to Nagisa in the photo, and there is an enormous tuna head on a slab of ice in front of them that Nagisa is pointing to with a gleeful grin on his face, and there behind them is a shoreline that Haruka knows by heart. There are the shrimp and squid sellers all down the row. The nets drying in the sun. The boats docked in the harbour, and the fishermen milling about in the background.

There is Iwatobi, through Nagisa's eyes; a sight that Haruka has seen a thousand times and never paid attention to. Not like this.

Clutching his phone tighter in his hand, he smiles.

 

* * *

 

Rin flies back to Australia after the tournament, and Haruka boards a coach to Venice with the rest of the team for a short training camp.

On their last evening in Italy, he puts on his sneakers and goes for a walk after dinner. Alone, lost in the soothing embrace of the rippling canals all around, he crosses a bridge of stone. He takes his time. The metal of the railing, ornate with flourishes and curves, is cool beneath his bare hand.

He opens his eyes, and breathes in the golden dusk above the Floating City.

He stops at a little stall by the roadside, and buys a postcard of a lone gondolier on the Grand Canal, silhouetted against a sky of lavender. The water is blue, a different kind of blue than any he's ever seen before.

 

* * *

 

In the end, he does not send the gondolier postcard either.

Words, as they so often do, fail him. It's hard, when he's far away like this, when he cannot rely on everything that's unspoken to do the talking for him, and the bright spark of understanding to carry them through.

He keeps it in his bag with the postcard from Rome, and resolves to give them in person, one day.

 _If Nagisa can't go out to see the world_ , thinks Haruka, well -

He'll bring it to him.

 

* * *

 

 _From: nagisa_  
_Subject: GOOD NEWS_  
_i did well on my midterms!!! im eating 5 iwatobi crema breads in a row becos I CAN!!1!!1 do u recognise this field haru-chan ヽ(_ ⌒▽⌒ _)ﾉ  
_**_Attachment: VICTORY PICNIC.jpg_**

_To: nagisa_  
_Subject: (no subject)_  
_yes. you're near our elementary school.  
_ _the hydrangeas are blooming._

_well done. i'm happy for you._

 

* * *

 

At the warm end of spring, Haruka finds himself on a plane again, this time to closer shores. China is oddly familiar yet totally bizarre all at once. It is loud. It feels a hundred times more crowded than Tokyo.

Pressed in by his teammates in the middle of Beijing's baffling streets and ear-splitting chatter, Haruka swoops in on a brilliant blue postcard of the Water Cube, where he will be swimming. He has been keeping his eyes peeled for this. Every postcard he's seen seems to be of the Bird's Nest.

Quietly triumphant, he makes his purchase and tucks his prize away safely in his satchel.

In Hong Kong, the postcard is of side streets and alleyways lit with neon signs, lined with tables of street food; in London, he picks one of Westminster Abbey overlooking the Thames, a light fog swirling in the air.

Closer to home, midway up Fushimi Inari in Kyoto, he picks up a postcard of 1,000 red torii gates, lit by the sunset.

He excuses himself from team dinner that night and looks up Rei, who is studying medicine here in Kyodai. Over bowls of locally handmade soba, Rei plies him with eager questions on his travels and his competitions, and Haruka reflects on the way things go.

After all the miles that he's racked up, he's here, once again -

Sitting across the table from an old friend. Sharing a simple meal, at the end of the day.

The wall-mounted fan creaks when it turns, and the floorboards beneath their feet are old and rickety. Haruka takes a sip of the broth. It's hearty and comforting.

"Have you seen Nagisa lately?" Haruka asks.

Rei smiles. "He's working hard, but yes, sometimes he manages to come and visit."

"It must be tough for him, being alone at university," Haruka remarks.

Rei ponders this for a while, letting out a quiet, thoughtful _hmmm_ under his breath.

"I thought it would be too, Haruka-senpai, but you know…"

He pauses, sets down his chopsticks and reaches into his pocket for his phone, clicking through it briefly before sliding it over to Haruka.

"Does he send you these photos?" asks Rei.

_From: Hazuki Nagisa_  
_Subject: THE BARLEY GREW SO TALL_  
_rei-chan u kno that train we used to take to school!!! i rode it again today LOOK AT THE FIELDS NOW  
_ **_Attachment: VIEW FROM MY WINDOW.jpg_ **

The photo's practically a motion blur, streaks of green and gold whipping in the wind, blue sky in the background and something that looks like the tip of Nagisa's finger obscuring the camera lens.

Haruka smiles.

"Yes," he says. "He does."

Rei smiles back. "I think he's doing well."

 

* * *

 

_If you can't keep up -_

It was a different time, and a different place, when he said those words in their youth, and sometimes Haruka thinks to himself that these are words he would not say now, not to Nagisa.

Not because Nagisa's learned to keep up, but because, somewhere along the way - perhaps, even, _always_ \- without anyone noticing -

Nagisa's learned to overtake them all, effortlessly.

They struck out and left home to see the world, all of them. Rin first, then Makoto and Haruka, and Rei, too, when his time came, and Haruka's thoughts always wandered back to the mountains and the seaside in Tottori, to the boy with the sunlit laugh that they all left behind.

It's only now that Haruka understands why Nagisa never left:

He never had to.

There are worlds upon worlds of sights and marvels to see right at home, and Nagisa's always had his eyes open.

 

* * *

 

_Eight._

No matter how he counts them, there are only eight postcards, and that is one short of a perfect square to arrange on his canvas, and the lack of symmetry offends Haruka's artistic sensibilities. He's even gone out to buy a Tokyo postcard. It still doesn't make up the number.

He sits hugging his knees, surveying the mosaic he's laid out on his coffee table.

From the Spanish Steps in the top left corner to a picturesque shot of the Gold Coast at the bottom, they're arrayed like little windows, each one a glimpse into the trail that Haruka's travelled. There's an empty space right at the end, waiting to be filled.

Haruka mulls this over. _At the end._ Where is it, he wonders, that his footsteps have led him?

The answer strikes him suddenly, and all at once.

_No - not at the end -_

He knows this for sure, as certainly as he has ever known anything in his life.

_At the centre._

Haruka stands up. He goes to get his paints.

Carefully, he rearranges his postcards, glues them into position, and dips his brush into water.

Outside, winter's first snow is starting to fall.

 

* * *

 

_From: nagisa_  
_Subject: ON MY WAY_  
_SEE U SOON HARU-CHAN  
_ _IM STAYIN WITH U K COS MAKO-CHAN CANT COOK_

_To: nagisa_  
_Subject: (no subject)  
_ _i thought you would. i've already rolled out the futon._

 

* * *

 

"I can't believe I'm finally here," says Nagisa breathlessly, when he takes his first step into Tokyo's metro.

His backpack is heavy. Haruka can tell. Yet, his step is light as it always is, and his mouth hasn't stopped opening in a perpetual _o_ of amazement at everything around them since they left Haneda Airport. He sails through the city like he is walking on clouds.

"I can't believe it took you so long," Haruka retorts.

Nagisa grins, and nuzzles his head into Haruka's shoulder.

In the middle of the crowded train, Haruka nearly breaks down from the familiarity of it all.

 

* * *

 

Christmas Eve in the city is too overwhelming, says Haruka firmly, so they'll stay home.

Nagisa tries to whine a little bit. To this, Haruka shoves a huge mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows in his hands, turns on the kotatsu, puts on a horror movie with outrageous special effects and dims the lights.

It's a combination that only they can pull off: Makoto would never consent to their viewing choice, Rin's more into cheesy romcoms himself, and Rei would sniff at something as unhealthy as hot chocolate with _marshmallows_ , not to mention the brain-dulling, soporific effects of the kotatsu.

Haruka doesn't care. Neither does Nagisa.

Beneath the blankets, they keep their own kind of warmth.

 

* * *

 

"What _is_ it, Haru-chan? It's so big - oh, this feels like a frame round the edge! Did you get me a _painting_? That's so artistic!"

Haruka, already wearing the hideously garish blue and orange Christmas sweater that Nagisa got for him, sits back cross-legged against the wall and clasps his hands on his lap. In the background, there's some kind of cheesy holiday special variety show on TV. _Jingle Bells_ rings out jauntily in his living room.

"Nagisa. Just open it," says Haruka.

Nagisa, trying to shake his present with one ear pressed to it, makes a face.

"That's not fun. Guessing is half the fun. You opened yours so quickly," he complains, pouting.

Haruka's lips quirk upwards. He waits, and watches.

When Nagisa tears the wrapping paper off, he does so slowly, like he's savouring it; he opens presents the same way he opens a piece of rare candy, or his favourite bread from the cafeteria.

"Ah! It's _postcards!_ " Nagisa squeals, as he catches sight of the first one behind the glass.

"Mmm," Haruka murmurs.

"Hey, this is from _Rome!_ Haru-chan, did you collect all these from your travels?"

Haruka nods. Nagisa's eyes go wide, wider still as he unveils more of the canvas. A hush falls over the apartment, punctuated only by the sound of wrapping paper ripping and Haruka's steady breathing.

"It's amazing! I love it," Nagisa gasps. " _Oh -_ "

Haruka nearly doesn't hear the whispered syllable. But Nagisa pauses, then, sets the frame down on the floor, and slides the rest of it out into view.

"It's Iwatobi," says Nagisa.

His voice is quiet. It reminds Haruka of a night under the stars, when they were sleepless, back in high school, when he listened to Nagisa pour out his heart from a playground swing, and in return, learned to open up his own.

"Right here. Isn't it?"

Nagisa's fingers find their way to the very centre of the canvas, where Haruka's painted a scene he knows by heart. The boardwalk by the sea, receding into the distance. Waves lapping at the sand, and mountains of green against a pale blue sky, seagulls circling in the air.

"But why…?"

Nagisa's gaze, filled with wonderment, finds Haruka's.

Haruka shrugs. "It felt right," he says. "The rest of the world is exciting. But you've always shown me all kinds of sights in Iwatobi that I never saw before. That's the world too. _Our_ world."

Nagisa laughs, then, and the sound peals like Christmas bells in Haruka's heart; he scoots over and throws his arms round Haruka, burying his face into his neck. He smells like strawberry-scented shampoo and Haruka's bath soap, and also, inexplicably enough, like cake.

And as Nagisa squeezes him tighter, Haruka feels a teardrop, glistening warm and wet against his cheek.

He smiles. Nagisa's grown taller. Just a little.

He presses the lightest kiss to Nagisa's temple as he threads one hand through his hair, and lets the other come to rest on his back, through an oversized woolly sweater that tickles. He thinks: the universe is very big. They might never see the whole of it, or make it to outer space, where the stars await.

But that's okay, because they don't need to travel very far to touch the sky together.

"Merry Christmas, Nagisa," says Haruka.

 


End file.
